Panic
by Robin Gurl
Summary: Having a panic attack is miserable. USUK. Complete


**Panic**

**By Robin Gurl **

**(Another random thought USUK. Britain has bad panic attacks. ;3) **

**Disclaimer: Own nothing. **

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He didn't know what was wrong or what to do to fix it. The pain in his stomach and the over whelming nausea was making it hard to stay on his feet. He clenched his eyes shut leaning against the wall, panting, trying to get his feet back. This feeling, it choked him, it squeezed the air out of him, it almost felt like it could be arousal but with the small voice telling him that it could be that he knew of the bitter taste afterwards when his body would cry out in agony and tell him up front it wasn't arousal.

Then he'd get ill, like he wanted to now. He felt so sick, so dizzy, he didn't know why it was happening or once again what it even was. His knees felt weak as he pushed himself up right, it felt like a mission now. His mission was to get up to his room and shut the door before it hit. Whatever it was.

He looked up and around and saw no one was there so he quickly walked on unsteady feet towards the stairs, panting, his breathing labored. If he didn't hurry he was going to lose the last bit of control he had over this thing. He felt cold and then hot, almost like he had a fever – but he knew better. He had felt perfectly fine all day, energetic even, and then it just hit. The temperature changes was his body's way of telling him the count down had begun and he had very little time to find a place and save his dignity.

As he climbed the stairs he pulled his phone out of his pocket and threw it down the stairs. He'd replace it later. Right now he didn't want to admit that for once he was dreading contact with the outside world. Even if something was telling him that's what he needed to cure this feeling.

As he crested the stairs he leaned against the nearest wall, tears burning in his eyes. He gripped his chest through his shirt wheezing and choking on the breathes he tried to take. "D-Damn it." He knew cursing wasn't going to fix it but it felt reassuring knowing that it hadn't taken his ability to speak.

He then lifted his head, cheeks stained with tears, more still rolling down his cheeks. They became more frequent as the thing took hold, it felt like there were hands inside of him. One clenching his heart, the other clenching his lungs. It was so hard to breathe, he just wanted to collapse right there but he knew not to do that. He wasn't safe out here in such a vunerable state. He continued towards his room and once inside he slammed the door shut.

He fell to his knees letting out wet wheezes sniffling and shaking. He doubled over trying his best not to cry but knew it was only a matter of time. Whatever was controlling his body and mind right now, he knew it was just going to get worse. He could feel his control over his emotions and body leaving, he couldn't fight it any longer.

He choked on his next breath and a sob escaped with it. Another followed and more streams streamed down his cheeks. The sick feeling in his stomach was commanding him to get sick, to throw up. Sweat ran down his face as he tried to fight the urge, he fell the rest of the way to the ground and curled on his side crying, arms wrapped around his stomach.

For a brief moment he panicked as he started to look for his phone, he had been told to call when or if this ever happened again. Panic piled onto Panic made his vision swarm and the nausea worse. Then he remembered he'd broken the phone in his haste to get away from the world.

Then he heard foot steps, he was too weak to move, his heart was pounding so fast and loud it echoed in his ears. He just lay there though too afraid to move, he knew if he did he'd get ill and he didn't want that.

Then a voice echoed from downstairs and he heard a clunking of heavy boots on the stairway but instead of answering he only curled closer into himself trying to breathe properly.

He heard a door open and heard a gasp – once again he didn't make an effort to move. He had no control over his body anymore it was just a pawn in the hands of this thing.

"D-Dude..?" America stood over at the entrance to the bed room still completely dressed in his outerwear and covered in snow. He was panting from running, his heart still beating like mad. He hadn't known what to think when Britain didn't answer his phone and then to come home and see it smashed to pieces. "A-Are you ok?"

He waited a few seconds and saw Britain wasn't going to answer. He then sighed and walked over kneeling down, "It's ok, dude, I'm here…" He then sat down completely and reached over running his gloved hands through the other country's blonde hair. Britain only shivered and shuddered in response, a few sobs escaped his lips. America moved closer touching Britain but nothing else showing him it was alright. "This one is bad ain't it?"

This one? America's voice echoed in his head and his eyes opened, tears streaming. This one? That's right, he's had these before. He uncurled slightly and reached for America with shaking hands, his bottom lip quivering as he tried so hard to hold it in.

"Easy, dude, easy." America responded and lifted Britain into his arms holding him close. He buried his face in Britain's neck, arms holding him as tightly as he could without harming him, "Just let it out, Iggy. 'member what the doc said? Don' hold 'em in?"

As if in response the shaking continued and Britain let out a gargled cry, then a sob, then the tears started again. They were endless as he finally let it out. He just cried his body feeling weak as he let America support him. His fingers ached as he clung to America's jacket, holding it tightly in his hands as if that would keep America here. He found himself whispering 'I'm sorry' over and over again even though he didn't know what he was sorry for. The sick feeling was getting worse and he felt bile rush up from his stomach to his throat. He pulled away from America and ran down the hallway tripping over himself and slipping on the ice that had fallen from America's jacket.

"DUDE?" America leapt into action and ran after him watching with a heavy heart as the once strong country who had raised him collapsed at the toilet and started to throw up. "Oh..Iggy.."

In between throwing up he kept hiccupping on the sobs that wracked his body, his vision was still blurred as he tried to regain composure. His head hurt, he was so sleepy but it was still raging and running his body.

He stood up unsteadily after his body emptied itself and flushed turning to lean against the door frame, shivering. He looked up and saw America hadn't left. In fact he'd shedded the outdoor clothing and was standing in a button down and a waist coat. "W-Why are you s-still here?" He asked weakly tears starting to stream again.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you have other places to be, you don't have to be here…w-with me.." His voice broke, he really had no energy to be mean but he wanted to. Maybe if he did America would leave and not see him like this. "S-Stop being a s-stupid wanker and l-leave! Y-You didn't even invite yourself in!"

America sighed but smiled warmly walking over and pulling Britain into a tight hug, "Calm down, Ig. I can't invite myself into my own home." He gently pulled Britain's fingers away from the doorframe and held both his hands tightly in his own. "It's ok, dude, I'm here. I'm not leavin' either."

"Y-You shouldn't s-see me like this." Britain insisted trying to stop his cries.

"I've seen you like this more times than I can remember. It's no big deal, I mean, seeing you like this. I know it hurts bad, I can see it, but isn't it better with someone here?"

He shrugged weakly in response more tears rolling down his cheeks, "I-I'm not even sure what it is…"

"It's another anxiety attack, it's alright, I'm here, dude. The devil shows himself in many forms and this one looks like a bad one. I'm glad I got home when I did. Do you want some tea?"

Britain looked up at America green eyes still spilling tears and he shook his head leaning into America. "I-I'm f-fine…r-really.."

"You're not but ok, c'mon then, let's go lay down until your stomach calms down." America led Britain into the bedroom and helped him on the bed throwing a blanket from the closet on there as well.

Britain sat up and silently watched America with wary eyes. Irrational thoughts were swarming his mind as he realized the door was open and America could run for it and leave him.

America stopped shaking out the blanket then kicked his boots off and climbed up onto the bed holding up the covers, "C'mere, I'm not leavin' I promise."

Britain crawled over and laid down, feeling exhausted as he did so. He felt America lay the blanket over him and then take hold of his hands again and hold them tight. He let out another weak sob and curled close using America's chest as a pillow.

"Shh, just relax. I'm here. You can cry if you need to."


End file.
